Intentions and Agendas
by Chief Ratchet
Summary: While the stranded UNSC forces on Madalen Firma faces off against the Scrin Empire, closer to home, on Earth, an age old horrific secret lies, waiting to be discovered...and awakened, to the service of the Brotherhood.... Halo/Tiberium Wars
1. Chapter 1

Intentions and Agendas

By Chief Ratchet

(A.N: I know that I really should be working on more of the Intergalactic War, but this idea came to my head during an especially intense skirmish on Command and Conquer 3 against the computer, with Mammoth Tanks, Annihilator Tripods, Firehawks, and pretty much throwing every unit we could muster against each other. Then, while I was sitting at my PC sometime after the match, I had an idea: what would happen if a Planetary Assault Carrier found its way into the Halo universe? What would the UNSC do? Not to mention the exceptionally well written Tiberium Wars novelisation over there in the Command and Conquer section, which also inspired me. Those ideas all came to mind, and the end result is this- one of the first, if not the only, Halo and Command and Conquer 3 crossover. The title came from two things; the intentions and the agendas of the…hey, I'll be releasing plot details! Please enjoy!)

Chapter 1: It Has Begun…

* * *

"Hawk 4, Banshees to your six!"

"Shit! Taking fire, need assistance!"

"Hold on Hawk 4, help's coming!"

The SkyHawk, designated 'Hawk 4', dove downwards sharply. Wind whipped against the fighter's smooth airframe, leaving trails of white vapour behind, tracing patterns in the blue sky. The fighter screamed as stress pulled against it, gravity doing its utmost to bring the fighter to the ground.

The purple coloured Banshee behind it dove as well, the twin plasma cannons mounted booming. Blue blips of deadly plasma followed the SkyHawk, as the Brute pilot tried to bring the faster fighter down. One, two and then three blobs of superheated gas struck the fighter's rear tail, warping some of the metal out of shape, and burning some of it off. Parts of the tail blackened, but the SkyHawk refused to fall.

The Brute refused to stop firing as well.

A blast of green radioactive energy was fired, as the Brute launched a blast from the Banshee's Fuel Rod Cannon. The slow moving blast fell short of the SkyHawk, touching the ground in a blossom of heat and green mist. A crater was left where the blast had hit the ground.

Throughout the sky of the UNSC colony world designated 'NX-Y346', also known as 'Madalen Firma', Banshees and SkyHawks traced deadly paths in the sky, as cannon and plasma fire were traded for each other. Below, on the ground, UNSC AAA flak guns created artificial clouds of death, throwing shrapnel in every direction imaginable. Banshees who were caught in a cloud, or even clusters of them, were torn apart as the high velocity shards of metal ripped through the purple skin of the ground attack craft.

Madalen Firma was a far off colony in UNSC territory. It was known for a semi-urbanised land, with much of the natural forests, mountains, rivers, lakes and seas undisturbed. But it also held a secret only UNSC personnel knew about- Camp Bradford, located within one of the many mountainous ranges, was the training area for a company of SPARTAN-III's.

Wrecked pieces of Banshees fell out of the sky as more and more of their numbers were ripped apart by the combined effort of the SkyHawk pilots and the AAA gunners. But the numbers of Banshees still flying meant that often, SkyHawk pilots were ganged up upon by multiple Banshees. With no ventral facing guns like their more contemporary space-borne cousins the Longswords, they were vulnerable to sneak attacks from Banshees swooping behind them.

One such SkyHawk, with three Banshees trailing it, spiralled down to the ground, even as more plasma bolts struck home. The fighter-interceptor and its pilot met a flaming end as the SkyHawk crashed into the ground at a considerable velocity, throwing a fireball high into the air.

"Hawk 4!" shouted the flight leader, even as she sent her fighter into a barrel roll.

A bright green bolt flared past the fighter.

"Come on, you hairy apes," Lieutenant Kathryn Park muttered as another series of plasma bolts flew past her SkyHawk.

"Hang in there boss- we're inbound," came the voice of one of the SkyHawk pilots.

"Move your ass then!"

Seconds later, orange-red tracers flew down from the heavens. Several struck one of the Banshees, knocking it out of the sky and into the ground with a blue explosion. A pair of missiles left their hard points, and slammed into the remaining two Banshees as a second SkyHawk screamed over Lt. Park's SkyHawk.

Kathryn breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks Hawk 5."

"No problem boss. You can buy me a beer later."

The aerial dogfights continued. One Banshee after another fell from the sky, as did several SkyHawks with a ratio of nearly two Banshees for every SkyHawk lost. Below, within the confining walls of the UNSC base constructed, the flak guns continued to send shell after explosive shell into the sky. The steady _boom_ of the guns going off shook the mounts upon which the guns were placed upon.

Many of the AIE-486H heavy machine gun turrets placed on the walls of the base, operated by Marines clad in their camouflaged armour, were aimed up into the sky. Golden shell casings flew out of the side, as the belts of ammunition were rapidly thrashing around as they were sucked into the triple firing chambers, allowing a steady stream of lead to trace the sky.

Just as the battle seemed to be won, a wing of twenty Seraph starfighters descended from the clouds, their pulse lasers firing. The cursing of several SkyHawk pilots filled the communication channels- the Seraphs were superior to the SkyHawks, and were only matched by the Longswords….barely.

"Flak gunners, change targets to Seraphs," Major Laurs ordered from within the command centre of the base. "Missile pods are to focus on the Banshees. Get me Airbase Alpha- I need a wing of Longswords to take care of these Seraphs!"

Acknowledgements flowed in, and the gunners carried out his orders.

Black clouds of shrapnel and fire filled the flight paths of the Seraphs as they dodged and weaved through the deadly maze. A pair of rounds pounded against one Seraph, breaking through its shields. A SkyHawk saw the opportunity, and fired its quadruple 50mm cannons.

A shower of red hot tracers hit the unshielded fighter, and cratered its armour. 50mm high-explosive rounds punctured armour, punched through and tore apart wiring, plasma conduits and fuel cells. The Seraph detonated in a brilliant explosion of blue light, as bits and pieces fell to the ground. Only for the SkyHawk to be fallen upon by a pair of Seraphs.

The pilot's scream echoed in the communications channel long after his fighter was consumed by pulse lasers, a bright yellow explosion taking the fighter's place in the sky.

"Where are those damned Longswords?" demanded Laurs.

"Major, this is Knife Twelve, ETA thirty seconds. I understand that you needed help?"

"You're damned right we do. My boys are getting ripped to pieces by those Seraphs. SkyHawks aren't meant to take on such fighters!"

"We'll take care of it for you. Alright boys and girls, we've got eighteen Seraphs to take care of. Check all flight instruments, load ASGM's. We'll fire them first, and switch to rotary cannons, and buckle in."

To the far east of the base, the radar picked up the signals of twenty Longswords, refitted for better atmospheric performance, while keeping it suitable for space fighting.

A volley of twenty ASGM-10 missiles were launched. Twenty vapour trails streaked across the sky, and manoeuvred themselves to align with their teardrop shaped targets. Fire exploded in the sky as the missiles struck home. Three of the Seraphs fell out of the sky immediately, while another five had blue plasma trailing from their engines.

The SkyHawks, once thirty strong, now down to fourteen, broke off immediately, heading for the safety of the airfields. A few Seraphs attempted to pursue the fleeing fighters, but were intercepted by a volley of flak shells that exploded in their path. Several of the AIE-486H HMG's opened up as well, but generally missed. But the effect was the same. Several missiles from the mounted Missile Pod turrets streaked into the Seraphs, many of which were unshielded.

More Seraphs fell to the rotary cannons of the Longswords and flak shells. The first Longsword casualty was Knife 15, who was killed when a Seraph collided with his fighter. The resulting explosion destroyed both craft.

Twenty minutes later, all of the Seraphs were wrecks on the ground, or were simply bits and pieces. Four Longswords were also lying in a graveyard of sorts. The remaining Longswords, many of which were bearing plasma burns and blackened in places, flew off to the UNSC airbase located some hundred kilometres away.

Above the atmosphere, the source of the Seraphs, a badly damaged Covenant frigate, exploded when a MAC round, fired from the only surviving UNSC ship, the frigate _Adriatic_, struck a weakened section of the hull. The round ripped through the ship, and penetrated the reactor. A fireball consumed the Covenant frigate from within, removing virtually all Covenant presence from the UNSC colony Madalen Firma.

Pelicans from the ships that were destroyed, as well as the _Adriatic_, flew down in significant numbers. Many were loaded with Marines and other non-essential personnel that were evacuated from dying ships. Many of the Pelicans also had Warthogs, Scorpions and a whole range of other vehicles attached. Within, supplies of every and all kind were loaded, ranging from food and water to weapons, ammunition and medical kits.

They landed at the various UNSC bases scattered throughout the planet, landing and disgorging their passengers, cargo and equipment. Groups other Marines and base personnel came out to assist in offloading the equipment that the destroyed carrier had been able to load onto the Pelicans before it met its fate.

"Well, looks like things are looking up after all," remarked Major Laurs to a junior officer within the command building in the UNSC base Fort Talith.

"Maybe they are sir. _Adriatic_ has just sent report back to High Command."

"Good, good, good. Now we won't have to worry about one for at least a couple of months. Attention all UNSC personnel, this is Major Laurs. Great job boys and girls. You've shown the Covies what it means to take on the Marine Corps!"

* * *

"…_shown the Covies what it means to take on the Marine __Corps!" _

The strange, distorted alien transmission was cut off with a flick. The screen, showing the voice frequency of the speaker too slowly slid to a dark purple colour, with the sinister, spidery symbol of the Scrin Empire shown in the background. Silence filled the interior, as the fleet of ships sat silently in the depths of space.

"Begin Ichor seeding," rumbled a deep, frightening voice that distorted randomly.

"Ichor seeding preparing. Loading Ichor seed," answered an equally distorted voice of a lighter pitch.

"Ichor seed preparing to launch. Seventy four percent complete. Targeting vector calculated."

Several minutes passed by without a sound.

"Ichor seed is completed. Targeting vector acquired. Awaiting your order, Supervisor."

"Launch Ichor seed."

"Stop!" rumbled a deep voice, full of authority. "Halt all Ichor seed launches!"

"Ichor seed is recycling as ordered, Overlord."

"Why?" questioned the other voice. "It is our objective, is it not? To seed a world, and harvest it?"

"Do not question my orders, Supervisor!" roared the voice to the Supervisor. "It is not enough to simply seed a suitable body, and wait for indigenous or native population to die out! Wipe out the native population first!"

"But we shall require additional forces in order to fully eradicate the indigenous population."

"Additional resources have been allocated to your taskforce, Supervisor. If necessary, construct a base of operations to build up another larger strike force. Do whatever it requires to destroy all native and indigenous populations. Do not fail, Supervisor," the voice warned, before silence enveloped the space again.

"Resources have been increased by two hundred percent, Supervisor," the voice pitched again. "Additional resources transfer is complete. Awaiting your order."

"Do we have substantial levels of combat forces?"

A pause, as records and reports were shuffled through to gain a greater picture.

"Combat force preparation levels are at nineteen percent. Current forces are comprised of Disintegrator units, a small number of Shock Trooper heavy infantry units, Gun Walker scout units, and Seeker light tanks. Air combat units are completely comprised of Stormrider fast-attack craft."

"Move the force to the planetary body. We shall land, and begin construction of a base of operations."

"Orders transmitted. All ships have acknowledged, and have began moving."

"Then it has begun."

* * *

In space, seven Scrin vessels accelerated towards the planet. Seven signatures appeared on the long-range sensors of the _Adriatic_.

"What are those?" wondered the captain.

* * *

"Energy signature detected in orbit of planetary body."

In space, Scrin vessels hurtled towards the Adriatic, and the colony of Madalen Firma, initialising the first contact between the UNSC and the Scrin Empire….

* * *

A.N: Well, what do you think? Good, bad? Tell me, by reviewing, please. Not asking for a massive critique, just a couple of sentences, hell, a couple of words!

Now, this is one thing added to the massive list of stories I am trying to juggle around. In addition, I have a tonne of work to do at school, leaving this somewhat lower than my other stories on the list of priorities. I know that I will see this through to the end, and I only hope you will too.

I know that there wasn't any combat between the UNSC and the Scrin, but oh just wait, that'll come by the bucket-load in the rest of the story. Besides, I needed to set the scene. What good is a story without me telling you what has happened before? Just a few words? Now you know.

Please review, and until the next chapter of this or the Intergalactic War!


	2. Uninvited Guests

Intentions and Agendas

By Chief Ratchet

(A.N: First of all, thanks to all the people who reviewed. They were all greatly appreciated. I might as well go and say it now- this story is only going to be UNSC against the Scrin. To answer a few anonymous reviews, if the UNSC did combine their tech with GDI, I think it would turn into a one-sided affair. So, a definite no for throwing the UNSC into the C&C universe. Sorry. Besides, it's going to be hard to explain how the UNSC got into the universe anyways. Second anonymous reviewer, of course I'm going to continue this! I've sworn to myself I'll keep this going until it is finished! It's just a matter of time. fatdude, what scenery? Seriously though, I do happen to leave out details sometimes- I'm not perfect, in fact, I have a far from perfect memory about what to keep in. Enjoy the chapter everyone!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Halo or Command and Conquer. They belong to Bungie and EA respectively.

Chapter 2: Uninvited Guests

* * *

The first thing the _Adriatic_ did after picking up the seven unidentified signatures was to power up all weapon systems. Battles with the Covenant had shown the battle-hardened crew that it was better to be safe than to be sorry.

Soon enough, the ships came into view. Seven large ships were slowly making their way towards the planet.

"Open a communications channel," ordered Captain Whitman.

"Done sir," the AI Galacticus replied.

"Unidentified alien vessels, stand down. You are violating UNSC space, and any further attempts will be met with extreme force. Respond, and move your ships seventeen hundred light years away from the planet."

Silence, as each and every crew member and officer held their breaths.

Nothing. Nothing came back from the channel, and the vessels continued forward, unphased by the threat. A threat that Whitman was not unwilling to do.

"Prepare a heavy round for the MAC. Target the first alien bastard, and give 'em a taste of hell," he ordered. "Sound decompression alarms in non-essential sections."

"Calculating targeting solution," the AI responded, as the other officers sent orders.

"Targeting solution acquired."

"MAC is fully charged!" the weapons officer shouted.

"All non-essential compartments depressurised," another officer reported.

"Good. Fire," Whitman ordered.

The _Adriatic_ shuddered, as the slug left the ship's MAC gun, on a course towards the lead alien ship.

The projectile slammed into the ship, and instead of exploding like it should have, the ship shattered into dozens of other smaller, near identical ships. The MAC round continued on at a considerable velocity, and ended up smashing into a second ship, which too broke apart.

"Shit!" Whitman cursed.

"Negligible damage done to targets, sir," the AI reported.

"Activate the point defence guns! Knock the smaller bastard's outta the sky!"

The multiple twin gun fire-linked 50mm autocannon turrets rotated, and tracked the smaller Drone Ships. Hundreds of high-explosive rounds roared out silently as the ship's AI guided the fire of multiple turrets at the same time, sending rivers of tracers at the ships, which proved to be remarkably durable, despite not being shielded.

Even so, with hundreds of HE rounds slamming into them and causing explosions, blowing off alien armour and vital circuitry, they started to spin out of control. Explosions, eerily silent, lit up the vast blackness of space for moments, as the alien ships exploded one after another.

"Arm Archer pods A1 through to B7," ordered Whitman. "Lock in the targets as Ship 2."

The frontal Archer pods opened up. A series of rapid _thumps_ denoted the Archer missiles leaving their pods, streaking towards the incoming ships.

The first wave impacted, blasting open armour, and blowing off chunks of the ship, which slowly spun off into space. Fire blossomed for a moment within the workings of the alien vessel when several Archer missiles sailed into an opening created by the earlier missiles. The explosions ravaged the interior, causing the ship to slow down, still being pushed forward by the remaining thrust.

"Ship 2 is disabled," the AI reported.

"Status on the MAC gun?"

"MAC gun is…ninety five percent complete. Awaiting your order."

"Fire at the next closest ship."

"Aye Captain."

Once more, the _Adriatic_ shook as the heavy round left the ship.

The white-hot projectile sped forward, crashing into the next ship, shattering it as well. This time, the MAC round continued onwards on a considerably different course, the impact with the alien vessel having knocked it off course.

"Deploy Longsword fighters to wipe out those smaller ships," Whitman ordered.

"Aye sir," Lt. Harvey replied as he transmitted the orders. "Longsword Squadron Theta, report to launch bays!"

"Moving now sir!"

"Lt. Nasaka?" called out Whitman.

"Sir?"

"Remove the safeties on all of our Shivas. Prepare one for launch; keep the other two in reserve."

The lieutenant gulped noticeably. "Ye-…yes sir," he said, as his hands moved erratically across the keys.

* * *

Longsword pilot Major Aarons dove down onto one of the weapon-less ships, the twin 110mm rotary cannons mounted on either side of the cockpit blazing with fire, sending a rapid stream of shells into the ship.

_This is a slaughter_, he thought to himself as he banked away from the dying ship, which exploded, hurling chunks of alien metal and fragments across space.

It was true. He could see the other Longswords of Theta Squadron buzzing around the helpless ships, firing missiles and cannons into the ships. Behind him sat his co-pilot, who operated the electronic countermeasures and ventral 120mm cannons. The ventral guns spurted to life every now and then, placing bursts into the vessels.

A scream echoed through the communications channel. Major. Aarons craned his neck around, to see Theta Four being crushed under the sheer weight and force of one of the smaller ships slamming into it. The Longsword burst into flames, which were immediately snuffed out in the vacuum of space. The alien vessel continued onwards, with some of the bulk of Theta Four still underneath it.

"Shit! Theta Three, nail that ship!"

"Roger."

Theta Three, piloted by Lt. Chang, flew off towards the ship that had crushed Theta Four. Twin rotary cannons blazed with anger as the pilot let loose a pair of ASGM-10 missiles. The missiles left a white trail as they streaked towards the target, blooming into fireballs, which caused the ship to explode into a much larger one.

* * *

"Space-capable combat craft have engaged the Drone Ships. Threat level being increased to 'high'," said the distorted voice of the AI. "Enemy warship, based on performance, is placed in class FBX-09. Threat level extremely high, based on ship's engagement and destruction of three Drone Vessels. Recommend Stormrider screen to ward off incoming attacks."

"Deploy Stormriders," ordered the rumbling voice of the Supervisor. "How many Drone Ships have made it into the planetary body's atmosphere?"

"At this point in time, no Drone Ships have made it pass."

The screen displayed the swarms of purple Stormriders as they flew out of the hangars. Armed with twin energy cannons, Stormriders weren't especially effective at engaging heavy armour, especially armour which could fire back accurately. The Stormrider's relatively thin armour could only hold up to so much firepower. But they were capable of harrasing attacks on lightly defended or armoured conveys, as well as being suitable for dogfighting.

The Stormriders quickly split off into smaller groups of ones, twos, threes and fours. They flew off towards the distant explosions as Longswords dove in between and among the wreckage of ruined and destroyed Drone Ships.

"Enemy fighters detected," warned Galacticus.

"Divert several 50mm guns to fend off the fighters," ordered Whitman. "Prepare to launch the Shiva, heading mark," he briefly checked with the computer, "zero four nine."

"Missile away," reported Lt. Nasaka.

The deadly thirty megaton nuclear warhead-equipped missile left its tube, streaking towards its destination.

The Stormriders flew right past the missile, having missed it without the telltale white streak of vapour which had evaporated and faded long ago. Several of the _Adriatic_'s 50mm autocannons swivelled on their mounts as Galacticus tracked the incoming fighters, monitored the reactor and triple checked for any viruses or hacks to their database all at the same time.

Once more, the 50mm cannons roared, sending another stream of shells into the fighters and their predicted flight paths. 50mm shells ripped up the Stormriders, which couldn't stand up to firepower for sustained periods. Explosions puffed in space, denoting the location where the Stormrider had been destroyed.

Some of the fighters started evasive action, doing their best to throw off the aim of the 50mm cannons. The turrets upon which they were mounted could only rotate so fast, and although possessing a broad firing arc, they were restricted around several sections of the ship.

A large number of the alien fighters broke off from the main group headed for the Longswords, and instead started to pepper the _Adriatic_ with their light energy weapons.

"Minor damage sustained from fighter weapons," Galacticus. "Armour is down to 93 percent."

"Status on the Shiva?"

"Shiva will detonate in approximately T minus six seconds."

"Prepare for EMP and shockwave," Whitman ordered.

Six heartbeats later, a brief second sun materialised in space.

The Shiva missile detonated, setting off its fifty megaton nuclear payload. The blast enveloped not one, but _two_ of the alien vessels. A fiery cloud of red, yellow and orange destruction ravaged the vessels, simply incinerating and vaporising armour and tearing the ship apart from end to end.

The angry red haze quickly cooled off to a bright orange, to a darker shade of yellow to a lighter tone of the same colour before turning to black with finality. Within the invisible cloud of black space dust laid the remnants of two Drone Vessels, utterly annihilated by the fifty megaton warhead.

The _Adriatic_ had already secured her systems before the EMP had hit. Therefore, the ship was only rocked back by the shockwave of the bomb slightly.

Several Stormriders within the range of the EMP were knocked out of commission, their engines, computers (if they had any) and weapons taken offline completely, leaving them easy targets for the hardened systems of the 50mm autocannons.

Further away, the Longswords had just wiped out the last of the current wave of Drone Ships. To their count, only a single Drone Ship had slipped past them. However, the earliest warning they had of the incoming Stormriders was when the energy bolts started to fly.

Theta Five was the closest to the incoming Stormriders, and as a result, was targeted the most.

Energy bolts stuttered past the fighters, as the new arrivals descended upon them. Frantic radio chatter filled the communications channel as they tried to determine the attackers.

Theta Five was hit multiple times from the energy weapons of the Stormriders, but the Longsword's thick armour plating kept the fighter relatively safe until it was blasted off.

"This is Theta Five, taking fire!"

The Longsword dove, twisted and turned, rose and repeated the manoeuvres as Theta Five did his best to shake off the attackers. As the Longswords quickly switched from blasting Drone Ships to dogfighting Stormriders, Drone Ships started to slip past, and onto the planet.

* * *

Theta Five fired the rear 120mm cannons at the pursuing Stormriders, to stave them off. Energy bolts flew past and overhead as the Stormriders kept up with the Longsword, at the cost of a loss of aim. Another energy bolt scarred the Longsword's armour, throwing it off course slightly.

"Hold on," Theta Five warned his co-pilot, before activating the manoeuvring thrusters, spinning the Longsword one hundred and eighty degrees so that it was facing their pursuers.

Like this, they could aim their forward guns at the Stormriders, but was more vulnerable to a stray blast striking the cockpit and effectively decapitating the ship.

The forward 110mm rotary cannons roared, and sent rivers of high explosive rounds at the pursuing Stormriders, who most of which quickly scattered and broke off to avoid being hit. Several rounds did strike a Stormrider, which spun as the shell caught one of its edges, and spun it around like a Frisbee, before a second and third round hit it. The Stormrider attempted to regain control, but lost, and ended up exploding when its weakened airframe disintegrated from the stress.

Theta Five however, met the same fate when multiple Stormriders attacked it from all directions. The sheer amount of energy bolts striking the fighter caused it to spin out of control, before being struck in its soft underbelly twice more, exploding into a fireball before the pilot could cry out.

Across the space, the same fate had befallen Theta Three as well, leaving Theta Lead and Theta Two the only Longswords still flying.

"Theta Lead, this is Captain Whitman. Go planetside boys. We can't do jacksh- look out!"

The line was cut off, and a shockwave flew through space.

"What the…" muttered Major Aarons as he craned his head around.

The _Adriatic_ was no more. In its place was a nuclear fireball, and the remains of another Drone Vessel. Understanding dawned on the two pilots. The _Adriatic_ had collided with one of the alien vessels, which had set off the two remaining nukes in the ship without the safeties on.

Major Aarons pumped another Stormrider full of 110mm shells before flying though the resultant explosion.

"Theta Two, follow my lead. We're going planetside. Nothing we can do up here now except to warn the groundpounders."

The pair of Longswords disengaged from the fight, and flew as fast as they could push the engines towards the planet, even as a few Stormriders pursued them, only to be deterred by the 120mm ventral guns.

The Stormriders soon gave up the chase, fired a few more energy bolts in the Longsword's direction, and flew back to form a defensive screen around the last remaining Drone Vessel and the few Drone Ships still left as they slowly made their way towards the planet.

* * *

"Come on people, move it!" shouted Constable Kagen as he waved his hand to get the steady traffic build up moving. A long line of cars was already snaking its way down the street, no doubt about the fact that it was probably spilling onto the other major roads already. The shouts of the other Civilian Security Forces filled his ears over the cacophony of shouts from angry drivers, the wailing of alarms still going, and the constant honking of the horns.

Taking a breath, he looked around and at the cause of all the commotion- a crashed Phantom, brought down by the flak guns, which had crashed onto the streets, killing all of the Brutes onboard. Fires, glowing a hot red and yellow still burned around the barest edges of the crashed alien troop transport craft. The purple metal was blackened, and holes perforated the craft from the places where the shrapnel from the flak shells had struck, penetrating and tearing everything within apart.

He tore his gaze away from the wreckage as a team of people in HazMat suits came up, started to put out the fires and pull away the wreckage from the crash site. A Warthog, branded with the letters 'CSF' on the side pulled up next to him. The Warthog lacked the M41 LAAG of the normal version used by the Marines, but it designed for use by the police forces, rather than the military. Taking the M41's place was an extended bay for more people to sit, which was full.

"Come on Kagen!" shouted the driver. "You're being relieved, so get in!"

Kagen was only too glad to jump into the Warthog, having spent a large part of the day wondering if he would be shot by Covenant, and then working his ass off in the heat, redirecting traffic and dealing with troublemakers. He was more than happy to jump in, and took off his helmet as soon as the Warthog's tires squealed, and took off.

On the ride back, Kagen took glanced up at the sky. The clear blue sky betrayed nothing, and the only warning that something was approaching were the several streaks of red in the sky.

"Hey, check them out," he said, pointing them out to Alan, sitting in the driver's seat.

Alan frowned as he saw the fiery comets descend. "That shouldn't be happening."

"Why?"

"We don't have an asteroid belt anywhere near here. How can there be comets, or meteorites if there's no place for them to come from?"

"Hmm," mused Kagen as he took another long look. He didn't know what, but something deep down inside him knew that something was wrong. "Anybody got binoculars?"

An officer sitting in the back section handed him a pair. He raised it to his eyes, and zoomed in on one of the streaks.

"Holy shit," he muttered.

"What?"

"Those aren't comets! They don't look like anything I've ever seen!"

The second sign that something was wrong was when the radio blared.

"All CSF units, get back to the station and arm up! Repeat, all CSF units, report to the nearest station and prepare for invasion!"

"You heard him!" barked a sergeant. "Get to the station!"

"Yes sir," Alan responded, pressing down on the accelerator.

The Warthog shot forward.

"Christ, where are the Marines?" asked one of the constables at the back.

The CSF weren't meant to handle combat situations. They had been trained to handle civilian situations, such as robbery, murder cases and riots.

That was why when the alien vessel crashed onto the road in front of them, nearly blowing the Warthog over from the shockwave of the impact, many of them held on and sat there as Alan finally managed to bring the Warthog onto all four wheels, gawking at the purple vessel in front of them.

Only some of them had their M6B handguns out, and aimed at the vessel.

"Get out!" shouted the sergeant as they disembarked, drawing their weapons, and aiming at the strange ship.

Some of them were armed with M7/Caseless SMGs, and a few had DTM Law Enforcement shotguns. But the majority were armed with M6B handguns, and had minimal ammunition, at most, four reloads.

A series of scampering noises were heard, and they raised and prepared their weapons. A four-legged creature, with an abnormally large snout, rushed out, followed by another, which in turn was followed by more. They were somewhat larger is size than a human.

"Hit them!" shouted the sergeant.

Weapons fire filled the air, as bullets streaked towards the aliens, which squealed as the bullets pelted them, and rushed forward against the CSF troops, numbering seven in total, with three pistols, two SMGs and a pair of DTM LE Shotguns.

Green viscous blood oozed from the wounds of the first creature as it was pelted with bullet after bullet, eventually succumbing to its wounds mere metres away from the group. The second was right behind it however, and it reached the group.

A bright bluish-purple beam, similar in colour to a Particle Beam Rifle's shot, lanced out as it swept the beam across Constable Lors, cutting through the light vest that was only capable of stopping a bullet or two, bisecting the unfortunate constable. His bisected body, smoking at the cut, fell steaming to the ground. He had enough air to scream, and pull the trigger once more.

A single bullet flew from the weapon, and impacted on the alien creature. It squealed, and was about to project the beam again when a shotgun boomed, and it fell, sinking down on all fours.

More of the creatures poured from the ship, and the fire of six weapons met them. It wasn't enough, as the poorly armed and relatively untrained CSF forces all over the city did their best to hold back the alien forces which had landed uninvited.

* * *

"What's going on?" demanded Major Laurs as he strolled into the command room of the UNSC base.

All sorts of technicians were running around from console to station, talking in rapid voices.

"Sir, we've just got a report from two Longswords from the _Adriatic_. Alien invasion, of non-Covenant origin and design, have destroyed the _Adriatic_ and landed, some in major population centres. We're getting reports from the city now- their CSF units can't handle the situation."

"Is that it?"

"As of now, yes it is."

"Send the alert to all UNSC bases on this planet. The alert has been raised to Red, Level 1."

"Sending now."

"Get A Company onto the Warthogs- I wanted them in the city yesterday!"

"A Company Lieutenant has acknowledged. They're prepping now, sir."

"Good. Get B Company on the line. I want fifteen Hornets loaded with men into that city now. The Hornets will provide close-air support once they have been offloaded."

The alarm klaxons throughout the base sounded, as two of the base's four Companies ran out of the barracks, and streamed onto the base's small runway, where Warthogs were sitting, loaded with ammunition and fuel. A wing of fifteen Hornets also sat on the runway, where crews were loading the last of the belts of ammunition into the guns, and fuelling the gunships up. The entire wing of fifteen Hornets had been modified so that instead of carrying two Marines, they could carry up to four.

Corporal Michael Logan rolled out of his rack, rudely awakened by the shouting of his comrades and the blaring of the alarms. He had been off-duty, and had used the time to catch up on some sleep. He threw on his fatigues, before locking in the last components of his leg and arm amour plates, and pulling on the armoured vest.

He ran out of his room pulling his helmet on, with the rest of B Company as they streamed towards the exit of the barracks. Ten metres from the entrance, weapon lockers, loaded with MA5C Assault Rifles and BR55HB SR Battle Rifles, came up, and locked into place at an angle for the troops coming out to grab.

The Marines of B Company grabbed the weapons, as they moved out, and reloads from the ammunition lockers which held packs of ammunition to streamline the process as much as possible. Each pack held eight reloads for the weapon, and was emblazoned with BR55 or MA5C to show which ammunition it held inside. In addition to eight clips, there were four fragmentation grenades, a small medical kit and enough rations for seven days. Some liked to joke that they were given more rations than ammo.

"B Company, get on the Hornets!" shouted the Lieutenant in charge.

They ran to the waiting gunships, whose engines were idling, their single pilot making last minute flight checks. Logan and three others reached the third Hornet in line. He pulled himself up, and offered a hand to the Marine behind him, who accepted, and was hauled onto the skid.

"You all good?" asked the pilot.

"We're good to go," replied Logan.

"Standby."

The pilot listened to the final briefing, and responded to the compulsory sound off.

"Stinger Six Three, ready."

"Stinger Six Four, ready."

The call went on, and stopped at Stinger Seven Five.

"Stingers, you have green light to go," said the air traffic controller from the command room. "Good luck, and God speed."

The Warthogs started up, and rolled down the runway to the exit, as the fifteen Hornets, loaded with Marines, lifted up as one, before turning and facing the direction of the Warthog convoy, the engines whirring as the Hornets flew above the Warthogs.

Logan looked down on the passing Warthog convoy, his Battle Rifle held ready. He could see the M41 LAAGs turning as their operators swept the large chain guns across the terrain.

The city loomed up before them- already, they could see a congestion of traffic clogging up the roads leading out of the city, and smoke was rising in parts. Several strange, alien structures were scattered around the city. The faintest report of weapons fire was heard.

"ETA to LZ is five. Marines, lock and load!" shouted the pilot of the lead Hornet, as they approached the city.

Logan pulled back the charging handle of the Battle Rifle, and released it with a snap. The sound, as well as its three counterparts was lost in the rushing wind.

"You ready man?" asked the Marine next to him.

"Always was!"

The Hornets sped towards the city, leading the Warthog convoy by a few metres, which were going at full speed.

"Prepare to rock and roll!"

The city loomed up, with its smoke columns, and Logan felt the adrenaline run into his veins, as did the usual feeling of nauseousness. The wind whipped past him, he clutched onto his Battle Rifle tightly and looked on. He was ready.

War had come once again to Madalen Firma. This time, not a holy war, or a war of genocide. It was a war for much more than just the planet. The UNSC had just met the Scrin in space. Now they were going to meet them on the ground, one area where the UNSC specialised.

War was here, with uninvited guests.

* * *

A.N: Crappy ending? I thought so. Leave a review, please, I do enjoy reading people's thoughts and feelings about this story. Just if you don't like it, give an reasonable, logical explanation why. Not just a flame based on personal opinion of why C&C or Halo sucks. Those are a waste of time, mine and yours.

Remember, review! And until next time!


	3. Home Turf

Intentions and Agendas

Intentions and Agendas

By Chief Ratchet

(A.N: And here is the next instalment of Intentions and Agendas. Thanks to all the people who have reviewed in the last chapter. Amir-015, yes, I do know that the Sparrowhawk exists. I just decided to use the Hornet because it could carry people, which I changed to four, but never mind that, and I had watched a bit of Black Hawk Down, and therefore, it again gave me inspiration. Doesn't the Orca just look beautiful? Too bad it's not used often. Enjoy!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Halo or Command and Conquer. They belong to Bungie and EA respectively.

Chapter 3: Home Turf

* * *

Lt. Kathryn Park landed her battered, blackened and dented SkyHawk on the runway, bringing the VTOL fighter gracefully onto the tarmac. Instantly, a whole team of ground crew members swarmed upon the fighter, cutting portions of the damaged craft off for replacement. Others worked on refuelling the fighter- one never knew when the next sortie would be, and as a result, most of the aircraft were kept always loaded and fuelled, ready to be launched within minutes of receiving a notification.

"Hey, Park!" shouted a ground crew member.

Pulling off her pressure suit's helmet, and shaking her dark brown hair that border lined on black, Kathryn looked over at the ground crew.

"Yeah?"

"What the hell did you do to your bird?"

"Don't ask me- ask the Brutes. They're the ones who did it," she retorted.

"Sure. We'll dig up the bodies from the craters!"

She laughed, and headed to the debriefing room. Along the way, she passed Pelican pilots leaving their craft, Hornets and Sparrowhawks landing, and the last of the atmospheric Longswords towed into the underground hangars. The pilots greeted her as she passed them, exchanging a few words.

"Hey Park. How's the flight?"

"Afternoon ma'am."

"Park, how many notches to the tally this time?"

"Great flying today ma'am! See you at the debrief!"

Kathryn answered them all, even as she walked past into the pilot's debriefing room, a prefabricated amphitheatre that could seat close to two hundred people, if needed. There were already pilots- some in their pressure suits, others not--gathering and milling around, exchanging talk and finding seats.

The talk quietened down when another person, with the rank of Major walked in. The debriefing ran as normal, until the Major frowned, and pressed the earpiece closer to his ear. He bent down to talk to his aide, and then stood back up again. Utter silence filled the amphitheatre.

The Major cleared his throat. "Boys and girls, new transmission from UNSC HQ. As of 1352 hours today, we have encountered a new alien race."

A buzz of murmurs whipped through the amphitheatre. The pilot next to Kathryn nudged her to make sure she was alright. She shook her head.

"Forty seven alien vessels have landed upon Madalen Firma, and as of 1400 hours, under UNSC protocol, Major Laurs is in command of all UNSC forces."

"What happened to Colonel Lewis?"

"His command centre was hit. Alien vessel landed right in the middle of them, ripped the whole place apart. Three-quarters of the personnel based there didn't make it out. The Colonel was confirmed to be one of the ones killed."

The Major paused to let the information sink in. "Gear up, people. We're in for a fight."

* * *

Major Laurs was standing in the middle of his command centre, bent over a table while reports ran in from A and B Companies, requests from other bases and enormous amounts of other information.

He ran his hand down his lower face, before putting it on his forehead. "Any more?"

"No sir."

He sighed. "Open a channel to all UNSC forces."

"Done sir," a technician reported.

"Attention all UNSC forces. This is Major Laurs, acting-in-command of all UNSC personnel based on Madalen Firma. Colonel Lewis is confirmed KIA, and under UNSC protocol ML-13 Section 1, I am taking command. Ladies and gentlemen, I won't sugar coat it for you; we're up to our necks in shit. We have forty seven confirmed alien LZ's across the planet, the _Adriatic_ is destroyed, and our chain of command is currently FUBAR. Until we can reorganise ourselves, I ask you to delegate command for the time being to me. Alien attackers have struck major population centres- we can assume that they're not here for sightseeing- send as many forces as you can spare without compromising your base's defences to respond. Until later, that is all. Carry on."

He turned to another technician. "Get me an uplink to Forrester. Tell him that I want the whole SPARTAN company to be deployed. We'll need them to turn the tide of this war."

* * *

Constable Kagen ran.

He carried his M7 SMG with a death grip, as he sprinted all out and dove into the open doorway of an empty household. The alien creature that had been chasing him crashed into the door frame, its size too big to be easily allowed through. It squealed, and tried to fit through again. When that failed, it rammed the door.

The impact shook the wall, and Kagen raised his SMG shakily, and depressed the trigger.

A stream of bullets poured out of the weapon's muzzle, striking the door, the wall and the alien creature. Pock marks replaced the area the bullets had struck, and green blood flowed from the creature's wounds as it squealed in pain, and tried to get at the constable.

Another burst, before the weapon clicked, the magazine empty. Kagen thrust his hand into his pocket, and fished out his second last magazine, and slammed it into the weapon, pulling back the charging handle. He raised it again, and once again, fire lit up the interior as the weapon emptied its bullets at an astonishingly fast rate. The creature finally slumped down on all fours, keeled up and died. He panted, and pushed past the dead corpse and out onto the street. He tensed his shoulders, and ran, for the nearest station, for the nearest armoury, to his nearest comrades.

All over the radio, he could he shouts, screams and cries for help as the CSF tried to hold their own against the alien tide. The transmissions were regularly punctuated with gunfire, explosions and the sound of alien weaponry being discharged.

"Kagen!" the shout came from his right, above him.

He looked up, and saw three CSF officers in a two-storey building, waving their arms at him.

"Hurry!"

Needing no more encouragement, he sprinted in. They opened the door, and he entered, collapsing on the floor. Two hands grabbed him, and hauled him up.

"You okay, man?" one asked.

"Fine," he answered. "Running out of ammo though."

"We got plenty. Grabbed it from Station 5 before it got nailed. Help yourself."

He walked over to the table, and saw magazines, pistols, SMGs and a few shotguns lying on it. Grabbing more ammunition for his SMG, he pocketed them, and then turned to face the two down with him.

"What're you doing here?"

"Trying to organise something. We're getting ripped apart, you know that. We can't do much scattered. We're trying to use this place to regroup and plan."

Kagen sunk down on one of the chairs. "Nothing's going well, is it?"

"Depends on-…"

"Incoming!" came the cry from above.

Instinctively, the three CSF officers threw themselves down, away from the wall.

The wall exploded inwards in a shower of plaster, plastic and various other pieces of debris. Standing at the newly created door was a large creature. Unlike the other ones that he had fought, this one was bigger, and had a more rounded, bulbous form. The body of it was completely covered with shining, chitinous armour, with a slit running down the middle. A trio of glowing lights appeared to be its eyes.

"What the fu-…" before Constable McJael could finish, the creature growled, and fired.

A bright purple shot flew out from the creature, twisting and flying through the air at a relatively slow pace. But before they could react, the bolt struck.

Instantly, the bolt vaporised most of his chest, and still had enough force to fling him like a rag doll to the other side of the room. A burning odour filled the air.

"Take cover!" Kagen shouted, before a second smashed into the ground where they stood seconds before.

The ground exploded in a light purple explosion, throwing tiles, dirt and ceramic into their faces. The temperature rose enormously.

Both Kagen and the other officer raised their weapons, and fired. Rounds flew by the creature, as it spat another bolt at them. They dove away again, and another explosion filled the room. Kagen managed to let off a burst, and scored hits on the alien. The bullets pinged off the tough armour. The pair fired again, more bursts and bullets striking and ricocheting off. The officer on watch descended from the stairs, firing a shotgun. Pellets bounced off the amour, before a lucky shot caused some of the pellets to embed themselves in the small slit where the weapon was fired.

It wailed in pain, before rearing back.

"Shoot it in the opening!"

Getting the idea, they aimed carefully, and did their best to place accurate shots into it. It returned fire, and this time, the shot was true. The officer next to Kagen was blown back, a steaming hole in his chest.

Eventually, after many bullets, the thing fell, collapsing onto its side. The two remaining officers ran out of the building.

* * *

The wind whipped past Logan's face as he watched the city grow larger. Next to him stood Private Jackie Lynn, her black hair encased in her helmet. She was crouching slightly, even though it was possible to sit on the skids upon which they stood. She clutched an MA5C in her hands.

"Stinger Six One to Romeo Five, what's your status?"

"Romeo Five to Stinger Six One. We're currently green, locked and loaded, and going way past the speed limit."

A chuckle came from the lead pilot. "Be glad you're UNSC then."

The Hornets buzzed over the Warthog convoy, the Marines riding on the gunships skids waving at the Marines sitting in the rider's seat of the Warthogs.

As they approached the city, the Hornets started to rise, and saw a problem.

"Lieutenant? I think you've got a problem here."

Raising a pair of binoculars to his eyes, Lt. Macri of A Company saw the problem as well.

"Ah, shit," he cursed.

The roads that led into the city were all clogged up with traffic trying to get out. Cars were crammed into every nook and cranny, making it virtually impossible for the Warthogs of A Company to get in. The Hornets, however, could simply fly and drop in the city. But ninety men were barely enough.

"Got any ideas?" asked Lt. Shawl of B Company, riding on the lead Hornet.

"Shawl, take your men in first. We'll try to find a way around into the city. The hills could lead to it. Our Warthogs should be able to clear the terrain well enough."

"Roger that. Don't take too long. Shawl out."

"Make sure you leave enough of the alien bastards for us. Good luck."

The Hornets rose, and sped off towards the city, leaving the Warthog convoy behind as it made a sharp turn off the road, and onto the rough terrain. The large tyres bounced and crunched over rocks, gravel and grass as the Warthogs were pushed to their limits. Thankfully, the vehicles were made to be able to handle any sort of terrain, making it easier to move.

"Where do we go now sir?" asked the driver.

"Keep moving forward. I'll contact command," said Lt. Macri. "Macri to HQ. Macri to HQ. Do you read?"

"HQ here. Go."

"We need an alternate route into the city. The highways are all jammed. You couldn't fit a mouse through there, let alone a convoy of Warthogs."

"Hold on- Wesley's finding one now."

"Roger."

* * *

The Hornets were flying above the city now. The alien structures were clearly visible, as were the sights of destroyed and ruined buildings.

"Okay, B Company!" shouted Lt. Shawl over the radio. "We're splitting up- four man fireteams, got it? Priority is to get the civilians to safety. _Then_ you can blast aliens to your hearts content. Pelicans from Bravo wing are inbound to pick up any civilians. Get them to an extraction point, and hold up while the birds arrive."

The Hornets started to break up from their formation. Separately, they flew to different locations through the city.

"Four man fireteams? Is that even enough?" asked Logan over the radio.

"We're shorthanded, until A Company gets here. Remember, get the civilians out. We'll clear out the aliens when A Company arrives."

Stinger Six Three banked left, and Logan, Lynn and the other two Marines held on tight to avoid falling.

"ETA to LZ is one minute and counting. Hold on- enemy AAA fire is expected," the pilot said.

Sure enough, as they passed over the streets and started to descend, they could see some of the aliens. A trio of rounded creatures the size of a small car saw them, and fired. Purple bolts lanced up from below, as the alien creatures tried to shoot down the Hornet, which was moving faster than the bolts.

Within moments, the Hornet slowed down, and hovered less than half a metre away from the ground, the wingspan of the VTOL gunship being just able to fit in the streets. The buildings around exploded into purple lights as the aliens caught up to the gunship and fired.

"Go go go!" shouted Logan, as he and the other three jumped off the skids.

As soon as their boots touched the ground, Jackie nearly had her head taken off by a purple bolt. The heat scorched her helmet, and the bolt blew a hole in the wall of a house. A group of screaming civilians ran out of the damaged building.

"Lynn! Anton! Get them to cover!" shouted Logan to the privates.

"Yes sir!"

They ran off, even as more bolts exploded around them. Logan raised his Battle Rifle to his shoulders and aimed past the Hornet, lining up the trio of rounded aliens. But there was no need for him to fire.

The pilot of the Hornet had swung the VTOL craft around, narrowly dodging a bolt, and lined the trio up with his gunsights. Triggering the twin rotary chain guns, the weapons span up and spat hundreds of rounds at the trio of aliens. Their chitinous armour, good at stopping light weapons, and stopping rifle rounds relatively well didn't fare well against the calibre of the twin rotary chain guns. The heavy rounds picked them up, and hurled them off their four legs as they screamed and died.

With the immediate threat gone, the pilot applied more power to the engines, and the Hornet lifted off into the air with a loud buzz. It joined its identical brothers in the sky, providing air support with rotary chain guns and missiles, as the Pelicans started to arrive.

"You okay?" asked Logan as he crouched down to face a woman who had been taken to safety along with the others by Lynn and Anton.

She nodded fearfully, and he patted her shoulder, before asking the next civilian the same question. Around him, the other three members of Fireteam Charlie went around, and made sure that the civilians were alright.

"Bravo wing, this is Fireteam Charlie. We've have civilians secured and ready to evac."

"No can do, Fireteam Charlie. All the birds are full, heading back to base. Hold on for a while- ETA to and from the base is ten minutes!"

Logan let out a frustrated sigh. "Roger that. We'll hunker down till you or the convoy arrives."

"Good luck. Bravo Lead out."

"Damn it," muttered Logan. "Guys, the Pelicans aren't arriving till another ten minutes. We'll hafta hunker down here until they arrive."

"Four of us?" asked Anton, clutching his MA5C tightly to his chest.

"You heard me. Lynn, get up to the second level, and be our lookout. Fincher, Anton, secure the entry points. Don't want any visitors in through the back door."

Four minutes passed without incident. The sound of rifles going off in the city grew ever louder, as did the buzzing of the Hornets as they unloaded bullets and missiles into the exposed alien forces. Occasional fire flew up at the Hornets, but the shots were generally too slow to hit the Hornets.

From the reports flowing through the radio, Logan could discern the situation that was happening throughout the city. The Warthog convoy was arriving at the outskirts of the city, and fighting their way through to relieve many of the beleaguered elements of B Company scattered throughout the city. The sheer number of alien forces meant that the ninety man company was stretched too thinly, and that made their job just that much harder.

"Contact!" shouted Lynn.

There was the sharp, staccato burst of a Battle Rifle going off, the pounding of feet as Fincher and Anton ran back, before the wall had a considerable chunk of it blown out, throwing bits of plaster and ceramic at Logan's face.

"Shit!"

He ran to one of the windows, and saw what seemed like a horde of aliens, with a few of the rounded, bulbous ones, emerging from the various alleys in front of the house.

"Contacts! Lots of them!"

They needed every rifle they could muster at the front, to keep back this tidal wave. But with every rifle facing forwards, a single enemy entering from behind could take out the whole team. Logan ran over to one of the civilians cowering in the corner, and yanked out his M6G.

"You know how to use this?" he asked.

The man nodded shakily, and accepted the pistol.

"If anything that's got more than two legs walks through that door, put a bullet into its head," Logan said, before handing over two spare clips for the M6G and rushing back to the front.

Already Anton and Fincher were ducking down behind windows, popping up to fire a burst at the aliens. The smaller ones didn't seem to have any ranged weaponry, so unless they came close enough to use it, they were safe. But there were plenty of them, and the added threat of the rounded ones, which had ranged weaponry, and dangerous ones at that, made things all the more difficult.

Ducking down under a window, Logan leapt up and fired a couple of bursts from his Battle Rifle. The rounds slashed into an alien, spraying thick, green blood over the pavement. It dropped with a squeal, but if the others had heard it, it didn't stop them from continuing their charge at the building.

Anton and Fincher continued to empty out magazine after magazine of ammunition, throwing as many bullets as they could into the alien horde. Already at their feet were scatterings of empty, golden shell casings. The empty magazines too were left at their feet.

"Reloading!" shouted Fincher as the electronic counter on his MA5C read zero after placing a sustained burst into an alien.

As he reached for a new magazine, one of the rounded aliens charged up, and fired. A bolt smashed into the wall next to him, and threw him onto the ground.

"Anton! Check him!" shouted Logan as he fired at the alien.

The three round burst ricocheted of the alien's thick armour or exoskeleton, leaving three small marks in it. He didn't know which, but it protected them pretty damn well.

"Fire in the hole!" he shouted, flinging a frag grenade at the alien.

The explosive bounced off the armour, and rolled to a halt in front of it. It took a step forward, just as the grenade under its feet exploded. The explosion threw the alien back, blasting bits of its armour off and tearing limbs, more specifically, half its legs, apart. It toppled down, and Logan placed three more bursts into it as it died. The others continued to charge, paying no heed to the wounds they sustained or the bodies of their dead,

All the while, Anton had reached and rolled Fincher over. The latter coughed before flashing a thumb's up to Anton.

"He's alright!" shouted Anton.

"Great, now get your ass back here!"

* * *

It was suicide. Absolute suicide. Scratch that. What he was doing made suicide seem a good option.

Sergeant Randall, of the 15th ODST Platoon, stationed on the now-destroyed _Adriatic_, was close to having his ass on fire. Out of the platoon stationed on the _Adriatic_, sixty seven ODST troopers had managed to get aboard their pods, and launched out the belly of the _Adriatic_ before it met its fate.

Sitting, or standing rather, in a HEV pod, the black clad ODST sergeant, in full combat gear including vest and helmet, alternated between cursing under his breath, and praying under his breath. His Battle Rifle, stowed next to him, rattled sharply, as the monitors on the HEV pod reported that he was entering atmosphere.

Out of sixty seven HEV pods, sixty were close enough for his pods sensors to pick them up, and they oriented themselves with his. Imaging gear displayed the city they were hurtling towards. Columns of smoke drifted up, as several structures were seen and made obvious.

"Alright boys and girls," Sgt. Randall started. He gritted his teeth as the pod rattled again. "Either we're really damned lucky, or some divine entity is favouring us today, take your pick. We're planet bound now, right in the midst of some alien ass kicking. We'll get down there, kick alien ass, and then report to the commander, then kick some more goddamned alien ass, got me?"

"Ooh-rah!" roared the Helljumpers through the comm.

"Good luck Helljumpers. God speed," Sgt. Randall said before cutting the comm. He wasn't religious—it just seemed like the right thing to say.

The pod rattled again, and his stomach churned.

"Damn it," he muttered.

The pods, the ones that had made it into the atmosphere at least, were starting to slow down, and with a sudden jerk that would have snapped him around had the space not been so confined, the parachute deployed, and yanked the pod into a slow descent.

The sharp whip caused the sergeant to bang his helmeted head against the side of the pod, but soon enough the pod was once again hurtling towards the ground.

A snap signalled the chute breaking off, and the imaging gear displayed his landing zone.

Sergeant Randall wasn't sure what would kill him first: the impact upon landing, or the aliens that were skittering around his landing zone, running at a nearly demolished house.

* * *

A.N: Sorry for the huge amount of time it took to get this chapter up. Rather than going onwards, which would have taken me even more time, I think I'll stop it here, and get the next part up hopefully within a week's time, that is, next Friday.

So, good or bad? I know, we haven't seen the biggest and baddest pieces of the Scrin arsenal, but rest assured, we'll get there eventually. Next chapter, I'm thinking of a little Spartan action…

And on another note, I'm kinda sorry to say it, but Intergalactic War is officially on a hiatus. I need some time to back up, review what I've done, and then think about how I'm going to approach the rest of it.

So, leave a review (try to get five, people!) and see ya next time!

Peace through Power!


	4. Engineer, Reporting In!

Intentions and Agendas

By Chief Ratchet

(A.N: Dang, how long did this take me? I'm really sorry for how long it took for this new chapter; a million things impacted on its production. With a new story coming up, this is probably going to be pushed to the sideline, but it will still be updated every now and then.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Halo or Command and Conquer. They belong to Bungie (I suppose its Microsoft now) and EA respectively.

Chapter 4: Engineer, reporting in!

* * *

SPARTAN-015, otherwise known as Jack, dove to the side to avoid a volley of bullets as they slashed through the air where he had been moments before.

Around him, three MA5K's unloaded their rounds at the general area where the original burst had come from. Bullets, stun rounds, tore through the bushes and thickets, creating small splinters as they impacted on trees and the ground, throwing up small fountains of dirt.

"Cease fire!" he shouted.

Immediately, the sound died away as the last round left the barrel, and impacted on something.

He motioned for another Spartan, Jessica, to move forward and check the area where they had just sprayed. She loped around carefully, peeking around the bushes slowly, and then shook her head. Just as she was about to push past another thick bush, a storm of stun rounds roared through, hammered her body, and flung her to the ground.

"Man down!" screamed another one of his teammates, Tom.

"Garry, go get her!" he shouted.

The other SPARTAN-III by his side dove forward, and covered Jessica's prone form as Jack and Tom sprayed stun rounds over them.

There was a scream as one of the bursts hit a target, and zeroing in on the sound, Tom and Jack sprayed another volley from where the scream had originated.

More shouting, not their own, as another Spartan appeared, diving at them, in an attempt to cover his own squad. Three long bursts struck the leaping form, and sent him crashing back.

By this time, Garry had dragged Jessica back and propped her against a tree.

"You alright?" he asked.

She nodded, panting as she tried to breathe.

"Flashbang!" shouted Jack, yanking one out. "Fire in the hole!"

He threw the non-lethal explosive at the bushes where he thought the gunfire was originating from. The photo reactive panels on the SPI Armour still reacted to the bright flash coming from the flashbang, which in turn would cause the amour to turn a stark white, the wearer becoming a signal flare.

The explosive detonated, and he covered his eyes. They would all stand out in their white armour, but he was partially covered by a tree, so only part of the armour turned white.

In contrast, three figures suddenly appeared in the bushes and even perched on the trees above them. He shouldered his rifle, and took aim.

Before he could fire, the exercise was interrupted suddenly by their radio blaring.

"All Spartans, halt exercises. Repeat, exercises and drills have been halted. Report to the amphitheatre."

The white figures died out, and then stepped out of the bushes.

"What was that?" the one in the lead asked.

Jack shrugged. "We better do what he says."

The walked off the range, and headed for the base. Their training base was located deep within the mountain ranges, making it ideal for training SPARTAN-III's in relative secrecy, all of which was about to end.

They passed Marines on patrol, Marines training, and automated defences as they proceeded past the gates, and into the amphitheatre. Inside, three hundred and five SPARTAN-III's congregated, exchanging talk amongst themselves excited. Though not as young as the first class of SPARTAN-III's, they had already received their augmentations and had been in training for the last year or so, waiting for the time when the next Covenant Loyalist force would attack.

So far though, they hadn't seen what they had been designed for: war.

Many of them were becoming restless, tired of endless exercises with each other, or the occasional Marine platoon, which was even less satisfying.

Major Forrester entered the room. A balding, heavyset man wearing full Marine combat fatigues, he was flanked by a pair of Marines. All the Spartans rose up as one.

"At ease, Spartans," he said, reaching the central podium in the centre of the amphitheatre. They all sat down in perfect unison.

He cleared his throat. "As of 1400 hours today, we are officially at war."

Would it been anyone else, there would have been murmurings, but the Spartans remained silent. Other than the occasional glance at each other, there was no other movement.

"A new race of aliens has landed, and they have wasted no time launching assaults against cities and UNSC bases. However, we have no intel on these attackers, so you'll be deployed to assist the Marines in repulsing these attacks. Gear up people, you're leaving now. Except for Fireteams Charlie, Tango and Foxtrot!" he called out.

Jack slumped back onto his team, as did eleven other Spartans. Major Forrester walked off the platform, and approached the railing that lined the front row seats.

"Spartans," he began once the rest had filed out. "I need you to gather intel on this new enemy. We're running blind, not knowing what they are capable of or what they are here for. We've got a break though—satellite has spotted an enemy base that's still under construction, and looks to be their largest foothold on this planet. I need two teams to go in and initiate a battle, whilst another team infiltrates the base, steals anything that's not nailed down, blow the place to bits and get out."

"Yes sir!"

"Fireteam Charlie. You'll infiltrate their base, while Fireteams Foxtrot and Tango distracts their forces. Arm up heavily—Jackhammers, rifles, Spartan Lasers, whatever you need. The Spartan Lasers have gotten their chargers, so take a few extended batteries to keep you while the others recharge. Fireteam Charlie, ONI's latest hackware has arrived with the _Adriatic_, which you'll need to hack whatever information they have. Priority on language decryption and intel on their troops. Good luck Spartans."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, two Pelicans, loaded with a total of twelve SPARTAN-III's, flew above the ground. Inside, Fireteams Charlie, Foxtrot and Tango sat, checking over their load out. Fireteam Charlie had the least weapons, but considering the number Fireteams Tango and Foxtrot bore, it wasn't saying much. Loaded with Spartan Lasers, Jackhammer Launchers and various other arms, Fireteams Tango and Foxtrot were well armed.

"You're lucky," said Jack to Casey, leader of Fireteam Tango. "You get to do the fighting."

"We're a couple of lucky bastards, aren't we?"

"So what's the plan?" asked Garry.

"We'll get on the ground, make a nice big noise to draw away as many of the troops that are there as possible. While they're distracted, you'll go into their base, while Adrian and Nicole cover you with snipers," answered Ken, Fireteam Foxtrot's leader.

"Sounds fun," remarked Jessica.

Seconds later, the Pelican landed, and disgorged its cargo onto a small cliff overlooking the enemy base. Twelve Spartans stormed off the transport, and immediately blended in with the surrounding environment. Three of them went back into the Pelican, and pulled out three AIE-486H Heavy Machine Guns, with enough ammunition for all three to last an hour of continuous fire.

Fireteam Charlie attached hooks and lengths of rope to the cliff edge, and strapped themselves onto it.

"Good luck," whispered Ken over the radio as they descended into the darkness below. "Give us the signal when you're in position."

As the Spartans of Fireteam Charlie descended into the blackness below, the remaining eight Spartans set themselves up for an extended firefight, laying out clips, rockets, setting the chargers for the Spartan Lasers up and charging a few while readying the rest, and setting the chainguns up. Adrian and Nicole, two of their best snipers, set up their rifles and lay prone, viewing the base through night-vision scopes. Ken activated the night-vision settings in his helmet, and saw the expanse of the enemy base.

Multiple squat structures, shaped like a dome but with 'arms' curling inwards were around the entire base. He could see some aliens patrolling the base, and one of the structures embedded in the ground at the centre of the base. A small structure, shaped like a triangle with circular points and a trio of arms constantly moving was located next to it, looking very miniscule next to the gigantic thing. Numerous other structures were located, including a handful of hand-shaped structures swivelling on mounts and domes with what looked like clouds of metal surrounding it. But there were only a handful of them, and they were all sparsely located, and the loss of a single one would severely compromise the alien's defences.

There was a single structure that stood out though: a medium sized structure (compared to the others) with a pair of antenna extending out. From the fact that there was only one of it, he guessed it was the most important structure so far, and the fact that it was located near the centre of the base only strengthened the fact.

"Fireteam Charlie, in position," whispered Jack over the radio. Instant silence fell over the eight SPARTAN-III's.

"Roger that Charlie. Get ready to sprint through," whispered Ken. "Adrian, Nicole, you ready with the snipers?"

"We're all green," Adrian replied.

"Okay, Spartan Lasers first. Target those hand like things and the hives. Try to make as much noise as possible. After lasers, put two Jackhammers into anything that moves. On my mark."

They readied themselves.

"Mark," whispered Ken.

Three Spartan Lasers instantly began humming, a thin red laser emitting from the barrel as the laser started to build up to their full strength. Within three seconds, the humming had grown more intense, at four, the light was becoming brighter and harsher, and at five, they discharged.

Three blood red beams of destruction swathed down at the base, slamming into one of the hand shaped structures with deadly precision. The lasers ripped through the structure, but it still stood.

"Again! Make sure it goes down!" Ken ordered.

Five seconds later, a second trio of beams lashed out and struck the structure. This time, it collapsed on itself, leaving a decidedly large gap in the defence grid. Fireteam Charlie ran.

At the same time, the attacks had gotten the aliens attention. They started massing forces near the largest structure, as many of the four legged ones and large ones gathered. This time, they were supported by apparently what looked like vehicles: one that looked like a tank, hovering like the Wraith but a bit smaller, and the 'turret' floating separate of the main body, and another that was a six-legged…thing, that had a large spout and a large, round bulbous back.

"Hit them!" Ken barked.

More lasers charged, and then discharged their deadly beams. One of the small, tank-like vehicles was hit by two, and exploded, the turret blowing off. The rest of the body sank to the ground, blue fires popping up as the aliens suddenly turned in the direction of the lasers. Squealing, the aliens charged en masse, headed in the general direction the eight SPARTAN-III's were in.

As per his orders, the SPARTANS picked up and shouldered their Jackhammers, and aimed, leading the target to give the rockets ample time to travel. They fired, as eight, and then a total of sixteen missiles were launched, trailing brown exhaust as they flew…straight into the alien's midst. Explosions blossomed, hurling alien bodies and bits of them into the air as they were caught in between and by multiple explosions. Some of the tanks exploded as well—some caught by rockets and taking direct hits, others only scarred by the explosions. The walkers also slumped down, while others were unharmed.

The aliens, caught by surprise by the sudden amount of firepower, halted. It was enough for three Spartans to man the AIE-486H chain guns, spin the barrels, and then firing.

Hundreds of rounds were sent down at the aliens, plucking their bodies up and hurling them away. The rounds bounced off the vehicles however, as the aliens started to swarm at the SPARTANs. There were the steady _cracks_ of the sniper rifles going off as one by one, Adrian and Nicole picked off aliens that had spotted or were going after the SPARTANs of Fireteam Charlie.

The Spartan Lasers went off again, searing through alien armour as more rockets lanced down at the approaching aliens. However, the aliens started to fire back. Bolts of energy struck the ground around them, throwing up columns of dirt that rained down on them. The six-legged walkers fired as well: bluish-purple bolts of energy struck the ground and sizzled. One impacted near Ken, and the temperature in his suit rose.

"Hold your ground!" shouted Ken, as even more bolts of energy struck around them.

The smaller aliens, which he guessed had a very limited range, were forced to find a way to the top of the cliff where they were located, while the others simply tried to position themselves to gain a bead on them. With the smaller ones gathering in large groups around the bottom of the cliff, he primed two frag grenades, and rolled them over the edge. Twin explosions rocked the gathering aliens below, as they screeched and squealed in pain.

* * *

The explosions in the background echoed in their ears as they silently infiltrated the enemy base like ghosts.

Appearing as no more than a quick flicker, the four SPARTAN-III's made their silent way through the base, hiding against strange, rounded structures that dotted the entire base. The sounds of whirring, alien machinery sounded from the gigantic structure at the heart of the base, and the small, three armed structure next to it also emitted such strange sounds. The arms continuously moved back and worth in deeper into the depths, before withdrawing and proceeding.

With explosions still sounding through the night, they reached their target structure, and quickly assembled around it.

One SPARTAN-III started to take out and shape small blocks of C-12 high-explosives, as the others took positions around him. The shaped charges went onto the frame of the structure, and within seconds, the entire group withdrew.

A small squad of the four-legged aliens scooted over to investigate. Their investigation was ended abruptly as the charges went off. The explosion blasted off a chunk of the wall, and also took with it the alien squad. The Spartans slipped inside the building, as more alien vehicles and troops were sent to find them. One of the vehicles was one of their light tanks: when it approached, a violet beam—similar to that of radar—came up, and swept around their entry point, revealing them from their camouflage for all to see.

"Fall back!"

The four Spartans instantly started to proceed deeper within the structure, as the tank fired; a series of purple discs that flew through the air and struck the edge of the hole. The discs burnt away a bit of the edge, as the Spartans fired back. The light tank couldn't come in any further, and soon gave up as they flattened themselves against a corner.

A trio of the large, rounded aliens shuffled past them, not even knowing they were there. Jack flashed a red status light three times quickly: _take them out._

There were four coughs from four silenced assault rifles as the Spartans fired. The expertly aimed armour-piercing rounds cracked against the alien's tough armour, knocking small chips off. The trio whirled around, snarling, and were met with another burst, this time straight between the slits. They dropped to the ground, dead.

Fading from view again, the Spartans proceeded deeper into the structure. Minutes later, the four found themselves in a room, which they hoped would be the main command and control centre.

"Set up the hackware here," Jack ordered.

Tom nodded, and pulled out the small datapad and opened it. Trying the wireless hack, he soon found himself inside the systems.

"I'm in," he reported.

"Good. Keep going. We'll keep watch."

Minutes ticked by, as the hackware churned, and sifted through mountains of data, all of which could be useful. Anything deemed of use was quickly copied into the steadily growing pile of data that was starting to turn into a treasure chest of secrets.

The clicking of alien feet caught the Spartan's attention, as they backed away from the door, and aimed their rifles as Tom hacked. The door opened; a trio of aliens, similar to the ones before, stood in it.

"Fire!" ordered Jack.

The Spartan's, excluding Tom, instantly fired, rounds peppering the alien's tough armour. It growled, and fired back, a bolt of violet energy that struck and cratered the ground behind Jessica. Two lucky bursts struck through the slit in the armour, and the alien dropped as it its two fellows piled in, and fired.

Bolts and bullets crossed paths in the spacious room, as the Spartans ducked and rolled to avoid the bolts. The aliens were too bulky to avoid the bullets, but many of the rounds failed to penetrate the armour. Silenced rifles weren't nearly as effective as their non-silenced cousins. Eventually, the two aliens fell, still growling.

"You done yet Tom?" Jack asked, as even more aliens smashed inside. "Shit! Take them out!"

More gunfire erupted as the Spartans threw everything at the horde of aliens literally knocking on the door. Frag grenades wiped out masses of the smaller ones, but often only knocked the larger ones down, and didn't deter the aliens from attempting to storm the room.

"Tom!" Jack shouted over the radio.

"Done!" Tom triumphantly said, as the files and language decrypter were downloaded onto the datapad, ready for examination.

"Good. Team, cease fire and ensure camouflage cloaks are on," ordered Jack.

They stopped firing, and flattened themselves to the wall as the aliens poured in, unsure of where they were. Tom did his best to quietly close the datapad, moving around slightly as so he wouldn't bump into one of them. With the pad secured, he quickly flashed his green signal status light twice, which was answered by the green light going off quickly four times in succession: _Move out._

As they moved, within metres of the door, disaster struck. One of the aliens hurried into Jessica's way, and they ended up knocking each other down. Every single alien snarled, and turned towards them.

"Garry, get her! Everyone else, open up!" Jack shouted.

He and Tom instantly started to shoot, firing at the aliens closest to Jessica and Garry, who tossed a few HE grenades into their midst. The explosions rocked the room, and hurled alien body parts around as bullets flew. The aliens, unorganised, couldn't react in time as the Spartans escaped. However, one shot managed to land near Jack and Tom, and the heat burnt out the camouflage cloaks.

"Everyone out!" Jack ordered, seeing as how the aliens were rapidly crossing the floor over to them, as several stayed behind to blast them.

They ran, through twisting corridors and hallways, as they tried to retrace their steps out while being hounded by alien patrols. Alien bolts pounded the walls, burning out craters while bullets flew back occasionally.

"Spartans, break pursuit!" Jack ordered.

They spun around suddenly, with Tom and Jessica dropping to a kneeling position as Jack and Garry stood behind them, all with their rifles raised. Three aliens rounded the corner into the path of two frag grenades. The explosions cut the aliens to pieces, as the Spartans fired. The sheer number of bullets striking the armour of the two large aliens shattered through, and they dropped, just as another two grenades knocked back the others.

"Retreat!" Jack ordered, and they spun around and ran. "Garry, how much C-12 do you have left?"

"Enough to bring down a building or two," Garry answered.

"Drop them along this path. If we're lucky, the charges will break the structural support."

Garry started to arm and drop the blocks of C-12, dropping them on the floor or throwing them wherever something important looked to be. The beeps of the charges made an ominous sound as they ran, and fired back at their unrelenting pursuers.

"There!" Jack said, pointing at what looked like the exit.

They ran, and burst out of the building, and never stopped running. Behind them, the timers on the charges started to approach detonation, and within seconds, reached it.

With an ear-splitting roar, the C-12 charges exploded, their explosive fury tearing through alien armour, metal and support beams. They consumed everything within the building, as the explosions, uncontained by the walls, exploded outwards, leaving massive, gaping holes in the structure. With a final groan, the structure collapsed onto itself, shaking the ground and throwing a massive cloud of dust into the air among alien screeches.

* * *

"Fireteam Tango, this is Echo 511, what's your status?" asked the Pelican pilot as the dropship roared towards the battlezone, escorted by a pair of Sparrowhawk VTOL gunships.

"This is Fireteam Tango, good to hear from you Echo. Fireteam Charlie's got the goods, and we're just about overrun. We need a pick ASAP."

Over the radio, the pilot could hear the sounds of chainguns, Spartan Lasers, rockets and the strange sounds of alien gunfire as explosions rung in the background.

"Hang tight Fireteam Tango. ETA is forty seconds! Clear an LZ!"

"Roger that Echo," said Ken as the aliens rushed at their position once again.

This time, they had their light tanks right behind them, and yet more infantry. The Spartans were running low on ammo, but the aliens swarmed without fear of pain or death even as the chainguns were rotated towards them, and spat more golden shells. While the other Spartans concentrated on the smaller aliens, the Spartans manning the chainguns aimed them at the larger aliens right behind. The chaingun rounds more often than not punched through their thick, chitinous armour, which kept them back.

Rockets lanced at the light tanks, and one took two such rockets. It exploded, the turret blasted off and the rest of the body losing its anti-gravity propulsion and crashing to the ground.

"Gun's dry!" one of the Spartans manning the chainguns said, taking out his silenced assault rifle.

Seconds later, one of the light tanks fired—a series of purple-violet discs that traced patterns in the air. They slammed into the abandoned chaingun, exploding into purple-violet bubbles of heat and destruction that wiped out the chaingun.

Minutes later, the second and the third chaingun stopped firing as well, the ammunition belts which fed the guns empty and depleted. They added their own assault rifle fire to the others, even as the aliens pressed on, victory in their eyes. The steady _cracks_ of the two sniper rifles went on, snapping the rounded aliens around as the expertly aimed rounds went through the slit or blew away unarmoured limbs; mainly the legs.

In the distance, they could hear the roar of the Pelican dropship and the two Sparrowhawk gunships approaching. They raced over trees and plains at their maximum speed.

"Warm up the autocannons," the pilot of one Sparrowhawk told his co-pilot. "Get a lock for the missiles, and prepare the rocket pods."

The Sparrowhawks rapidly approached the scene. Within seconds, they were within firing range, and had their targets laid out for them. Missiles roared out from their hardpoints, striking the light tanks and walkers that were still surviving. At the speed they were approaching, the Sparrowhawks roared over the battle and were forced to race back in order to use their autocannons to full effectiveness.

The second they appeared over the battle again, a barrage of purple-violet bolts lanced out from below towards them.

"Evasive!" one pilot cried out.

The two Sparrowhawks banked to the left. But one as too slow and the bolts struck its softer underbelly and engines. Fire burst out and the engines belched black smoke as the pilot struggled to regain control over the wounded Sparrowhawk. Another series of bolts sealed its fate.

Losing more and more control by the second, even as the gunner rained shells down on the offending aliens, the damaged Sparrowhawk dipped suddenly, and within seconds, had plunged into the ground. An explosion tore through the gunship as the ammunition that hadn't been expended cooked off.

By the time the last explosion had rung within the shell of the former gunship, the surviving aliens were fleeing. Scampering or limping back to their devastated base, the surviving Sparrowhawk sent a few barrages of rockets their way, smashing a few damaged tanks and walkers as the Pelican landed.

"Onboard Spartans!" Ken ordered, just as Fireteam Charlie came up. "Right on time. Right, let's get you up as well."

"Thanks Ken," they replied, and boarded the Pelican.

Ken was the last to board it, sweeping the area one more time of any hostiles before deeming the area safe. Intense training had taught them that often, something was lying around just waiting to ambush them. But seeing nothing, he too entered the Pelican.

With a roar, the pilot fed more fuel to the engines, and the bulky dropship lifted off, its sole surviving escort flying nearby. Information was vital to any war, and the Spartans had done exactly that: they had information, providing that of course, the data that they stole could be decoded. If it could, life was on the way to becoming a lot easier.

But either way, there was a massive obstacle ahead; the aliens. And without a doubt, the fight was not yet finished.

* * *

A.N: Okay, I lied; there is no ODST action, but I hope plenty of Spartan action made up for it. Sub-par ending to me, as usual.

Next chapter actually will be different. It won't have much to do with the story going on now, but just a little side story I thought I might throw in since this is a C&C and Halo crossover.

Until then, review, and I shall see you later!


	5. The Awakening

Intentions and Agendas

By Chief Ratchet

(A.N: Sorry this took so long. I'm slow updating my stories, as you can see. But this time, I have a reason for not updating this one, I swear! It's called Kane's Wrath. Hehe, who doesn't like to watch Nod bases burn under the ridiculously powerful and pretty blue flames? I suppose Nod fanatics wouldn't but oh well. And one very last thing. I want every person who clicks on this to read the following paragraph. It will save me a lot of pain.

I know what's happening with the Tiberium eradication is pretty damned farfetched. Seems damn near impossible as well, given that the stuff is both under and above ground and there was never a stated way to remove the underground deposits, I'll just stick with the massive sonic bombing of the area, okay? And yes, Sgt. Johnson is just too cool to be killed off. I will forever hold a grudge against the person who wrote his death. And the entire Halo 3 storyline as well. It sucked, plain and simple (to me). Read and review, and don't worry, we'll get back to our buddies under dire threat from the Scrin Empire soon enough. And a bit of foul language at the end here: but it's only one word, you'll live.)

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo or Command and Conquer. You should know who they belong to by now.

Chapter 5: The Awakening

* * *

It was the extremes. It always had to be the damned extremes.

Sergeant Johnson, second most famous hero in the Human-Covenant war (or at least he was somewhere down the line; the Spartans admittedly all came in before him), had seen his fair share of alien, breathtaking and hostile worlds, and even a bit more. But now, back on Earth, he was long overdue for a nice sunny stay somewhere bright and sunny. Preferably in the Pacific.

But now here he was, dragging his war-bitten ass across the frozen, inhospitable lands of somewhere in frozen, bitter Russia along with a number of other Marines. They all wore thick clothing to help with the freezing conditions: no part of their body was visible and open to the biting cold. As a show of goodwill, a small contingent of Elites also trudged alongside them, the faint blue glow of their Plasma Rifles or the eerie green of the Carbines just visible through the blowing snow.

To help with relations, a number of Separatists, mostly Elites and Grunts, had stayed behind to provide some help to the vastly undermanned Marine Corps. Not knowing where the rest of the Loyalists were, if there even any left, the divisions still stationed on the planet had begun a massive sweep to root out any remaining Covenant forces. Some of the admirals and generals were reluctant to let the Separatists set foot on the planet, but in the end, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Which all explained the odd group trudging through the barren, frozen wastes.

"You squid-heads okay back there?" Johnson's voice blared through the radio.

"By Sanghelios," one of the Elites said back in response. "What kind of world do you have here, humans?"

"Ah, welcome to Russia. Home of caviar, vodka and endless cold and ice," Johnson joked. He would have spread out his arms, if there wasn't endless cold to flash-freeze them instantly.

"What're we here for anyway?" one of the Marines enquired.

"To kill all Covenant bastards. Present company excluded of course…as well as any other squid heads," Johnson replied, to an indignant huff from one of the Elites.

The group continued their patrol through the icy wasteland. The Marine's visored helmets and balaclavas helped shield them against the pounding snow, while the Elites and Grunts…they had no idea.

"Hey, how can you walk through this kind of storm without any protective clothing?" one of the Marines closer to the Elites asked.

"Our shields protect us from the brunt of the snow, while our armour has systems advanced to keep us from the cold. The Grunts' suits are already environmentally sealed," one of the Elites grumbled, while attempting to see beyond the screen of lashing snow. Their shields protected them against the snow, but it didn't stop the snow from reducing vision next to nothing.

"Alright meatheads, listen up!" Johnson barked. "Thank your lucky stars, boys and girls. Command just came on the horn!"

One of the more openly-minded Elites, a Minor, stepped closer to one of the Marines, who jumped at the sight of the inexperienced, yet still massive, warrior appearing out of nowhere.

"Human, what does 'on the horn' mean?" he asked.

The Marine, Private Jacobs, managed to calm his rapidly beating heart. "It means that they just talked to him over the radio," he explained, still feeling his heart thumping against his chest even over the snowstorm.

"Oi, you two! Shut up! As I was saying, command just came on the horn. We're headed back to base: this blasted storm is only going to get worse. Pack it up and turn back ladies, gentlemen and squid heads. And you Grunts as well."

There was a collective sigh of relief from the Marines as they turned back, and headed on the path towards the UNSC base only a few kilometres away with their Covenant allies in tow.

* * *

The UNSC base was a sight to behold for the lost and the weary—or in this case, the weary, but not the lost--it held an air of home for the tired and cold Marines, Elites and Grunts who trudged closer and closer to it. High rising guard towers, armed with a pair of AIE-486H Heavy Machine Guns and a pair of missile pods and housing a large range of other weaponry such as sniper rifles and the like, loomed over the walls of the compound. They kept a watchful eye on the terrain while the automated defensive towers that also surrounded the base swivelled around on their mounts, following their basic routines and constantly scanning with more vigilance than the tired and cold Marines manning the guard towers.

Passing by the gates, which automatically opened for them, the group trudged past Scorpion tanks and Warthogs as they headed for the command centre, located in the middle of the compound. A pair of Marine guards stood at the door. A brief nod and a hostile look later, the entire mismatched group was through and knocking on the door of the commanding officer of the base.

"Come in," a gruff voice said.

The door opened, and they stepped through. Most of the Elites had to duck a little to get underneath the doorframe, while the largest, the crimson-armoured Major, had to stoop low to get under.

"At ease," the Major said. "Anything happen on your patrol?"

"No sir. Everything's just fine and dandy, except for the snow," Johnson said.

The Major glanced at the Elites and Grunts, whose silence indicated their answer.

"Very well then, that'll be all gentlemen. You'll have the same route to patrol tomorrow morning, dismissed."

They saluted (the Elites too, if a bit hesitant and grudgingly), before stepping outside the building. The blast of cold air sent shivers trembling through their bones.

"Sarge, why is it so damned cold?" one of the privates demanded, rubbing his hands together, with his rifle slung over his shoulder.

"I agree with the human," one of the Elites growled. "Where do we rest for the night?"

"Suck it up Marines. And squid-heads," Johnson growled. "When I was half your age, I was already stomping across a dozen worlds that were completely frozen! Everywhere you looked there was ice! And we didn't have none of this fancy heated armour! You have it lucky, boy."

"Jijab freezing!" one of the Grunts shrilled. "Jijab need warm!"

"Shut up Grunt. If you 'ladies' will kindly follow me?" Johnson asked, leading them to the barracks complex.

The interior of the barracks complex was significantly different to the scene outside. While snow, ice and wind blasted and chilled anyone who dared to step outside, the interior of Barracks Complex A was warm and cosy. A dozen heaters had been set up, and hot liquids flowed almost freely.

"Now, this is better," one of the Elites sniffed. "Except for the stench of you humans everywhere."

"Get used to it, squiddy. You'll be sleeping here tonight!" Johnson barked.

"What about us? Where we sleep?" asked one of the Grunts.

"A room has been kept aside for you."

But the Grunts were already gone, either finding other Grunts around the room, or joining in on some of the games going around. One such Grunt was holding a trio of cards in his hands against a single female Marine, and judging from the crowd around the table, something was at stake.

"Hey, O'Reilly. You lose this, and you have to kiss the Grunt!" one Marine hooted. There were numerous cheers following, all agreeing to the bargain.

"Screw you guys!" she shouted.

More wolf-whistles and cheers followed, before someone shouted: "Even better! You can screw the Grunt as well!"

"Home, sweet home," Johnson muttered, as he headed for his bed.

The last thing he wanted to do was to wake up with a hangover right before patrol duty and to watch a brawl descend between the Marines.

* * *

The next morning was a clear contrast to the night before.

Though it was still bitterly cold, the sun now shone in the blue sky, revealing the snow-covered ground. Not a howl of wind was present, as Sgt. Johnson, fully dressed stepped out of the barracks, his squad in tow.

"God_damn_!" one Marine shouted, as the sun's glare hit him full force. He brought an arm up to his eyes. "How the hell do we see through this?"

"Use your sunglasses Marines. But you'll still never be as pretty as me," Johnson said. His helmet had its visor fully lowered, protecting him against the sun's glare. "Alright, come on, let's move out."

Grudgingly, the mismatched group once again marched off into the snow. The Elites brought up the rear of the formation, while the Grunts ended up huddling together in the middle. The Marines, led by Johnson, were at the front.

Snow crunched underfoot as they marched down one of the paths, going further than they ever had previously. They clutched their rifles to their chests as they left the safety of the reach of other UNSC or Covenant Separatist patrols, and into areas where they had not explored yet. They trudged down a small valley of sorts, and after a brief talk with their CO, continued deeper down into the valley.

"Sarge, do you have that feeling that something's gonna happen?" one of the Marines asked.

"Suck it up, Marine. Now keep those heebie-jeebies to yourself before you pass them onto some other poor fool."

At the exit to the small canyon, there was a small drop which they had to jump down. One of the privates was about to leap down when her foot slipped. She fell down with a shriek, but was caught by one of the Elites moments before hitting the ground.

She blushed. "Uh, thanks."

"It is not a problem," he replied, and placed her on the ground.

"Come on," Johnson scowled.

He turned around, and had walked forward three steps before he crashed into something with a loud _clang_.

"What the...?"

"Hey, you alright Sarge?"

"I'm fine," he growled, getting up and looking closely.

The thing in front of them was massive, easily larger than an Elephant. Snow had covered it over many years, rendering it nearly invisible on the snowy plain.

"What is that?" one Marine questioned as they crowded up to it.

Johnson rubbed his hand against the mountain-ish thing in front, and was surprised when it started to crumble. Within moments, a patch had been cleared, and the rest of the covering was starting to fall away.

"By the Gods…" one of the Elites breathed, his breath forming clouds.

The Humans stared awe-struck at the massive thing in front of them, while the Grunts shrieked in terror, and quickly scampered away to hide behind the Elites or even the Marines.

In front of them stood something less like a tank, and more akin to a giant armoured fortress.

The mammoth vehicle sported four treads, of which the back set were significantly larger, and a triple barrelled cannon mounted on a blocky turret. Its armour was scored, cratered and dented, with scorch marks and gashes running down all over its side. None of those served to deviate it from the sense of enormity and danger that seemed to radiate from it.

"What in God's name is that thing?" one Marine asked.

"Uh sir? You'd better take a look at this," one of the Corporals said, moving around the side of the vehicle.

"What is it?" Johnson asked, walking around the massive vehicle which took some time alone, before stopping. "Mother mercy…"

There was a massive snowy field in front of him. And every square centimetre was clogged with bodies, with charred remnants of vehicles, shattered husks of bipedal mechs, and dotted with craters.

Large tanks with angular, sloping armour and their massive cannons off-centre sat ruined, time and cold having worn away their once impressive armour. Scarab shaped tanks, far more curvy than the ones before dotted the landscape in even greater numbers. A pair of massive tanks with four treads and twin cannons sat else where, surrounded by the broken remains of almost a dozen other scarab shaped tanks. Wrecks of aircraft also dotted the plains, not to mention the countless other vehicles, none of which matched any known UNSC vehicles.

"What happened here?" one of the Elites asked as the entire group came around the vehicle.

"Why are you asking me? Does it look like I know?" Johnson said, before snapping on his radio. "Command, this is Johnson."

A brief pause and hiss of static came before the answer. "Go ahead Johnson."

"We've discovered a battle site here," Johnson said. "And the catch is that nothing here matches what we or our Covenant bastard friends have got."

"Say again Johnson?"

"We stumbled upon something that looks like it came from the Rainforest Wars."

A pregnant pause came over the radio. "Okay, we've got a lock on your position, and Pelicans are inbound. Continue monitoring the area, command out."

"Yes sir," Johnson said, before the radio fizzed shut. "Naptime's over Marines. Get your asses in gear: we're checking this place out."

They followed him without question, as they proceeded deeper into the devastated valley. Passing by many, many vehicles, it took them sometime to find anything else other than ruined husks.

"Human, what is that?" the Major Elite asked, pointing towards…something, nestled into a small alcove.

Johnson squinted at the rough shape that the Elite was pointing at.

"No idea. Come one, let's go," he said, leading them.

As they got closer, that 'something' turned out to be in fact a large building of sorts. Like everything else in the war-torn valley, it was covered in a blanket of snow, and in front of it stood a pair of rusted and degraded watchtowers of sorts. The building itself resembled a laboratory of sorts and had a human feel to it, which eased the humans somewhat.

"Kawnzy, Dew, take point!" Johnson barked as they moved up to the building.

The two Marines ran to a door, which after a few experimental tugs, proved to be shut tight.

"Are you sure about this Sarge? This whole thing could be unstable," Kawnzy said as he readied his M90 Shotgun.

"No, but we're going in," Johnson replied, as the rest of the Marines, Elites and Grunts gathered.

Kawnzy glanced at Dew, who nodded. He readied his shotgun, raising it to his shoulder. Dew tried the door again, which refused to budge. He tried to push harder, which also failed. Lashing out with his combat boot also refused to open the door.

"Bastard won't open," he grunted.

"Allow me, human," the Major Elite said, stepping up.

The Major lashed out with a hoofed boot, which connected with an impressive force. The door finally gave way, flying inwards.

"That's some kick," Kawnzy mumbled, as he rushed in with Dew.

The interior was dark, and only the light from the flashlights mounted on the Marine's weapons allowed them to see. The Elite's HUDs had image-enhancements, allowing them to see, but the Grunts lacked any of it.

"Can everyone see?" Johnson barked.

"Memep no seeing," one of the Grunts said.

"Okay…team up with a Marine. Stick close so you can see the light," Johnson ordered.

They progressed through the run-down building fairly quickly, as it soon became obvious that nothing was in the building. Filing up the stairs in formation, the Marines up front with their Grunt 'buddies' waddling as closely as they could without bumping into them, and finally the Elites bringing up the rear, the entire building was swept without incident.

At last, there was one more room for them to enter. Bracing themselves, Kawnzy let loose a blast from his shotgun, blowing out the door handle and locking mechanism. A swift kick later, and the entire group had piled into the large, expansive room. The large window panes were completed frozen over, with sheets of ice caking them thickly. But the thing that caught their attention was the small thing on the table at the centre that resembled a modern-day datapad.

"What's that?"

Johnson didn't answer as he moved to it, and grabbed it.

"Where's the damned switch?" he mumbled as he flipped it around, before hitting a clasp which opened it. "Ah, there it is."

"What is that human?" one of the Elites asked.

"Why do you think I'm checking it out?" he snapped. "Wait, here's the power switch."

A flick later, and the screen actually came to life, with writing starting to make its way onto the screen.

"Whoa, something in this place works," a corporal commented.

_Audio __Diary Log, Entry #152. Dr. Elliot Richards, ID Number 026125. 25/3/2063 _

_Dear God, as if it couldn't get any colder out here. But we are the lucky ones: I can't help but feel sorry for those engineers who have to be sent out alone in this weather. In any case, I might as well introduce the situation, if only to confirm it for myself. _

_Nod's been beaten back. Once again, we are winning. Can't say I feel sorry for the bastards. Not what after what they've done._

_But they're fighting like wildcats out there, and they're throwing just about everything in their arsenal at us. Scorpions, buggies, bikes, Spectre artillery units, even Avatar Warmechs. Not too mention the Vertigo bombing runs, and their biggest bombers. Thank God for whoever was smart enough to come up with the Slingshots and their compatibility with Tungsten shells. Time and time again they've downed countless numbers of Nod aircraft, saving us from anything such as conventional bombs (if anything in Nod can be conventional, that is) to those dreaded Tiberium Vapour Bombs. _

_(Explosion, followed by the sounds of rapid gunfire, followed by another explosion)_

_I must go now. They need me in the railgun department. _

"What the hell?" demanded Corporal Simon. "2063?"

By now, everyone else had gathered around as well.

"What is this, a party?" Johnson demanded, but the audio diary started up again.

_Audio Diary Log, Entry #152. Dr. Elliot Richards, ID Number 026125. __02/4/2063_

_We've been so busy these last few days, that I barely have time to record these anymore. _

_(Distant gunfire and explosions are heard) _

_In any case, the railguns are coming along well, but they're still a bit far from completion and ready for mass-production for the Predators and Mammoths. It's been very lucky for us: we've stared at death in the face now. A few days ago, a formation of Scorpion tanks managed to smash through the defences, albeit losing six Scorpions in the process. They wreaked havoc within the bases, destroying a power plant, knocking out a pair of Harvesters and Predators. Our forces are too spread out, which explains how they broke through. An airfield also crumbled, as well as another power plant before they were finally stopped. _

_Thank God for the Hammerheads of the 31__st__ Shark Wing, Steel Talons Battalion. They came in right on time, loaded with missile squads. Hammerheads armed with armou piercing bullets and loaded with missiles are very dangerous things. They reduced the Scorpions to ruined husks within moments of arriving, before more Steel Talons were flown in. If those Scorpions had made it any further, they would have gotten a clear shot at our Tech Centre. _

_There's also been word around that even now, ZOCOM is mobilising its forces and making their way here. If anything, the presence of Zone Raiders are bound to cheer the troops up. _

_Audio Diary Log, Entry #156. Dr. Elliot Richards, ID Number 026125. 25/4/2063_

_It's a pity that the Scrin completely destroyed our Ion Cannon network when they were driven off from our assault and even an unintentional help from one of Nod's Black Hand battalions. As a parting gift, those Scrin ships took it upon themselves to destroy any Ion Cannons or space-borne satellites. After that, we were left with only one against an entire network of anti-missile batteries and other Ion Cannons. _

_But given the sheer numbers and the variety of forces we have here, hopefully that Ion Cannon won't be needed. We have a standard GDI base, a Steel Talons division and even a ZOCOM division here. That's more than enough firepower, right? We've even deployed a MARV to help out against the sheer Nod numbers. It's like we're fighting two armies, not one. _

_The Zone Troopers and Zone Raiders are working quite well with each other. I've attached one of the video recordings from one Lt. Huy Graham. It's quite fascinating, watching how Zone Troopers work._

_/Begin recording/ _

"Hey, video as well? That's not too bad right now," Corporal Fulton said, peering at it. "Well, considering that it's over five hundred years old at least."

_The video showed a slightly graining picture of the same valley outside. In orange lettering, the name Lt. Graham, H was displayed, along with an ID code. The faint whining of servos and hydraulics was heard over the sound of louder gunfire and explosions. __Multiple readouts were displayed, showing everything from power levels, to a picture of the suit displaying its integrity, and other vital information. _

_The camera panned to the left, showing others clad in bulky suits of armour, wielding large rifles that crackled with energy. The ground puffed under their heavy steps, as their rifles swept the area. The HUD read 'Zone Troopers, 'A' Company' when the reticule passed over them. To the right, the camera showed a similar suit of armour, though much slimmer and far less bulky, feminine even. A pair of fins rose up, holding a rack of missiles. They clutched bulky weapons resembling grenade launchers. In a similar form, the HUD read 'Zone Raiders, ZOCOM 22__nd__ Reclamation Division' when the reticule passed over._

"_How is she?" the person asked. _

_The camera panned again to show one of the more feminine suits of armour held between two of the bulkier ones. _

"_She's not that bad to carry el-tee," one replied. _

_The soft whirring of motors came up again as a Zone Raider walked up. Their movements were far more graceful than that of the Zone Troopers, but they looked a great deal more fragile. _

"_Thanks for that Lt. Graham," the person, a woman, said. _

"_No problem. Let's keep moving. Something probably needs our help," the person replied. _

_With their servos whirring, the small but deadly group moved on, closer to the explosions, passing by ruined wrecks of Scorpion and Predator tanks alike. _

_A warning sounded in the HUD as the camera suddenly jerked around. _

"_We have incoming!" someone shouted. A Firehawk screamed overhead, its hardpoints depleted._

_It was closely followed by a trio of Nod attack bikes, who clearly intended to bring the fighter/bomber down. Two railgun rounds tore two bikes apart, as the Zone Raiders fired a volley of sonic grenades, decimating the remaining bike. _

"Come on Johnson, do we have to watch this all day?"

"Even I agree. As interesting as this is, don't we have other concerns?" questioned one of the Elites.

"Alright, keep your pants on," Johnson snapped. "Marines, squid heads and Grunts, let's move out!"

Grabbing the datapad, Johnson took a last look around the room before leaving with the others. The eggheads at R&D probably would wet themselves looking through ancient history.

* * *

The valley, which was filled with ruined vehicles before was now slightly clear. Upon exiting the building, Johnson and the others saw that there were many connecting valleys, each of which was just as choked with ruins.

A small UNSC camp had already been established, with Pelicans and Albatrosses flying in even more materials.

"Johnson! Over here!" someone shouted.

They all turned to the speaker: a lieutenant with the name Stryker who was striding up to them.

"Yes sir?"

"You and your men have just discovered a goldmine," he started. "For the eggheads at least. But still, I'm shorthanded, and I need your squad down there and scoping that place out."

"What about the squiddies?"

One of the Elites huffed.

"They'll go along with you. God knows what you'll find there," the lieutenant said.

A salute, and after passing the datapad to the lieutenant, Johnson was off again.

* * *

"Does this valley look exactly the same to me or what?" one of the privates asked, glancing around at the massive, snow covered walls and ruined husks.

Once again, the Grunts had huddled up in the middle together, feeling slightly safer surrounded by more warriors.

"Hey, look!" another private said, pointing at what looked like a collapsed entrance. "Does that look like a cave inside there or what?"

"Anybody want to check it out?" Johnson asked, glancing around. "No? Well, come on boys and girls. We're checking that cave out. I hope no one here's claustrophobic."

Walking across to the buried cave entrance took longer than expected, and up close, the entrance too was much larger. The other complication was that four metres inside the cave, a large number of rocks had caved in, blocking off the entrance.

"Somebody packing any C-12?"

"Mark this spot, and get an engineering crew down here. It's their turn to check this place out. Let's go," Johnson said, turning and leaving.

* * *

"Clear!"

A massive explosion rocked the valley floor, as the blocks of C-12 explosives went off with an ear-splitting roar. Chunks of blasted rocks flew out of the mouth of the cave, as loose debris poured down.

Demolition specialist David McKiernan rubbed his ears through his helmet as he tried to shake out the ringing inside his ears.

Opposite of him stood a pair of other engineers, Naomi Sharper and Nelson Luth, both who were rubbing their ears.

"You alright?" he called out as they nodded.

Stepping gingerly into the cave which they had just opened, David scanned the area, his hand touching the M7 SMG at his side. A pair of Marines, both armed with MA5Cs stood outside: their designated bodyguards.

"Looks clear!" he shouted, prompting Namoi and Nelson to come in, followed by their guards, one of whom was smoking a cigarette. The Marine stomped on it after taking one last drag.

"That's gonna kill you someday," his companion said.

"Well, considering that we're walking into hostile terrain that is a battlefield outside, I'm gonna die either way," the smoking Marine shrugged.

Walking further in, all five of them had no idea what horrifying weapons waited for them further down, hidden deep within the recesses of the cave.

* * *

_…Motion wire tripped…hostile in area...beginning start-up protocols…_

_/Execute command…_

_/Command uplink initialising…_

_/Command uplink failure. Beginning check on additional directives installed by the Messiah…_

_/No new directives…reverting to Combat Protocol E25-63/5272…Successful. Initialising Combat Protocol E25-62/5272…termination of all non-Brotherhood targets…secure area…await further orders…_

_…/Time since previous activation…490 years…beginning mandatory software check…_

_/Targeting software undamaged…chaingun operating within normal parameters…ammunition capacity maximum…EMP pulse weapon…operational…maximum charge…_

_/Loyalty directives being assessed…loyalty to the Brotherhood and Messiah confirmed…_

_…Awakened unit 16672 online…_

_…Kane Lives…_

Throughout the deepest, darkest and most secretive part of the cave, a red light started to shine. Figures, a horrifying blend of machine and human, straightened up as the same checks were ran for each and every single one of them.

One phrase was spoken in the same monotone voice, ringing out through the caves: "Awakened online!"

* * *

"Did you guys hear that?" David asked, as they walked down another part of the cave.

"Hear what?" Naomi questioned, her fiery red hair tied in a simple ponytail.

"Must have been the wind," he said, shrugging. Their Marine bodyguards hadn't spoken much to them.

"Now the geeks are hearing something," the smoker-Marine said.

"And?"

"What, in this cave? They're too jumpy."

"And we aren't? Why shouldn't they be any way?" his companion said.

The Marines and David stayed behind as he started to check something, sending Nelson and Naomi ahead. The two were confident to go ahead without the Marines following them.

"What, in this cave? Don't tell me you're afraid of ghosts."

"I ain't afraid of any ghost. I'm just not sure what could be hidden down here," the non-smoker Marine retorted.

"Sure Jack, _whatever_ you say."

"Shut up."

A lengthy pause, as David continued to examine whatever he was examining.

"So we ruled out ghosts. What else could there be? Cyborgs?" laughed the Marine smoker.

His companion started to laugh, just before an ear-piercing female scream sounded ahead of them. The Marines instantly brought their weapons to their shoulders, all playful banter forgotten.

"Naomi?" David shouted. "Naomi!"

What caught their attention next was the sudden roar of gunfire.

"Shit, you just had to jinx it didn't ya?" snarled the non-smoker Marine, reaching for his radio. "Command, come in, this is Delta Two, come in!"

"Don't!" his companion shouted as David ran straight down in the direction of the scream.

"What is it Delta Two?"

"We've got gunfire down here, somebody's down! Need assistance!"

"Roger that, Fireteam Echo's on their way."

Within moments, more gunfire roared from somewhere, followed by a shout, and the distinctive chatter of an M7 SMG.

"Come on, let's get out of here!"

The two Marines bolted for the entrance, just as the sounds of marching feet sounded through the cave. It was a long stretch, and something ingrained in the Marines caused them to spin around, levelling their weapons at the corner.

Something marched through the corner, one arm raised. The two Marines fired, sending a storm of 7.62mm Full Metal Jacket rounds flying down the corridor. The bullets clanged off whatever they were shooting at, and at least a couple managed to punch through the armour. The thing fired as well; a series of rounds thudded into the rock above their heads.

Sixty four rounds later, of which forty three hit, the thing toppled over. But it was followed by another, and another, followed by three more.

"Shit! Fire in the hole!"

The frag grenade soared down the long corridor, bouncing into their midst. An explosion tore the armour off one, and knocked several others down. Bullets from two MA5Cs filled the space with tracers, rounds skipping off the armour of their attackers; other times it would succeed in punching through. But it wasn't enough.

Delta One, who was cursing their attackers as he reloaded, took four rounds to his chest. The rounds slashed through the armoured vest and killed him within a matter of seconds. Delta Two felt the blood splash against his face, and gritted his teeth as he emptied the remainder of his magazine into one of them, which toppled over.

Throwing a grenade, he got up, and sprinted as fast as he could to the entrance. He was nearly there…another ten metres…almost…

White hot pain flared up against his back, throwing him forward and out of the cave. Blood flowed freely from the bullet holes stitched in his back. As he turned to face the approaching things, he shakily raised his MA5C one handed, and pulled the trigger.

A clicking noise greeted him. The rifle was empty, as the first of the mysterious assailants stepped out into the light.

He almost laughed bitterly. It was almost ironic.

_Fucking cyborgs…_


End file.
